DISCONTEN Two bats rocked on the river, In the shadow of ledl and tree; ©ne was in love with the harbor; One was in love with the sea, The one that loved the harbor The winds of fate outbore, But held the other, longing, Forever against the shore, The one that rests on the river, In the shadow of leaf and tree, With wistful eyes locks ever To the one far out at sea. To one that rided the billow, Though sailing fair and fleet, Looks back to the peaceful river, Fo the harbor safe and sweet. One frets against the quiet Of the moss-grown shaded shore, One sighs that it may enter That harbor nevermore One wearles of the dangers OF the tempest’s rage and wail; One dreams, amid the Hiles, Of a far-off snowy sail, Of all that life can teach us There's naught =o true as this: The winds of fate blow ever, But ever blow amiss TI SR OT CR A MOTHER'S REMORSE, A girl sat just outside the .Kitchen door of the old Stonybrook farm upon a lovely spring day. The air was soft and wooing, and it lifted the yellow curls that clustered around her white brow caressingly, The songs of: birds could heard in the fields that stretched far away clothed in their new dress of emerald, starred thickly here and there with the golden-eyed daisies and Dbuttercups. But Phyllis Trevor never heeded these beauties that surrounded her, Her head was drooped low over the potatoes she was paring, and from time to time the golden head was lifted, when one could see that her mournful-looking brown eyes were swimming in tears. Then she would raise her hand quickly to brush them away, with a suppressed sigh glancing into the kitchen, where a tall, hard- featured woman was going to and fro between the wash-tub and the boiler on the stove. As Mrs... Trevor went backward and forward she cast dark glances at the figure sitting, clad in an old print dress, so silent and yet so busily working at the potatoes. It was evident that the mother was 1m a spiteful humor and wanted some one to vent it upon; so at be to the stove, and placing her arms ‘‘akimbo,”” she delivered the following in a complaining, high-strung voice: “Phyllis Trevor! ed, if I were you, to sit there like the | lazy hulk vou are growling to be, and | me a-washing here like a Trojan, 1 potatoes; I have never time; but you, forsooth! are too much a lady of leisure to go about your work as your mother has to, You must take care of your own ease! And the Phyllis Trevor, you've spilled that dirty water all over you! I would be ashamed to be baby as you yourself when a body happens to speak a erooked work to you—eryving—a great baby like you, 18 years old!” All at 3 o'clock with a violent headache, in order to milk the cows, she had heard nothing but a running stream of com- plaints and upbraiding. Phyllis was the eldest of a family of eight children, and all of them, except herself, boys. It seemed as if Mrs, Trevor never could get over the disappointment she felt at her eldest ehild’s advent into the world because she was not a boy. “Girls isn’t worth their keep,’ she complained to the neighbors, when they admired the delicate, white bit of humanity that lay, almost neglected, all day long in the rocker beside the kitchen window, never crying nor making the usual **coo-coo” of Lables in general, but lyirg quiet, gazing at the objects around it, and pulling at the bottle of milk which lay beside it. It seemed as if the child knew it was not wanted by its mother, for it never stretched out its puny arms to her to be taken, but would smile and jump whenever its father came near, for the patient, good-natur- ed farmer loved the child more than all the boys in the world put together. But he could not shield her from her mother’s fault-finding during the day, for then he was absent in the fields, she grew up in her delicate beauty, and other babies came, she was made aslave to their every whim, and made to carry them about in her thin arms until her back ached painfully, and her head and heart ached. Phyllis arose, now still trembling ner- vously under the undeserved reprimand, and, without retarning a word, con- tinued peeling the potatoes in a stand: ing position; her silence only inflamed her mother’s wrath, ‘You think to aggravate me by yonr fine lady airs, do you? I'll teach you to answer me when I speak to you! You shall not stir one step to the Sunday- school pienue to-morrow; but you will vr x Ou re, such a show doosway was suddenly shadowed. Both the women looked up; it was Mr. Trevor, who had returned from the flelds, and he stood there gazing upon the dark face of his scol@ing wife. There was an expression about his gray eyes and his usually kindly mouth which was new to them; an angry, determined look. He had been in time to hear her declaration Phyllis shonld not go to the picnic, and the rest of her reproaches, Ie remained silent for a moment; at last he exclaimed: “What! Scolding Phyllisagain? You never give that girl a pleasant word, mother! She works hard for any little pleasuring she gets, and you never zive her any credit for it, I say sheshall go to the picnic to-morrow!” and a still more determined look wreathed itself around his lips, giving to his pleasant features a harsh expression, Hitherto his wife's word had been law in the house; never had he, weak man that he w dared to interfere with her decisions, and now she was taken by surprise, She stared, open-mouthed, at the impudence of her spouse; it took away her breath for a minute, At last, however, she found her tongue and broke forth, her black eyes snapp- Ing with anger: **And I say she shan't! Bill Trevor? 1 say she shan’t!” she cried, shaking her bony fist at her husband's nose. He stood there calmly. ti shall he Wis, Do you hear, “She sald composedly, growing more cool and determined as his wife waxed more excited. “Phyllis is 18 years of age, and old enough to have gome voice jn such matters herself, She is not a baby now, to be ordered upon the pleasure of the boys, whose lave you have made her.” He delivered this with folded arms, looking right into the exasperated woman's blazing eyes, She almost went into a fit, she was so angry. face grew livid as she shrieked out: “If she goes, she'll never dare to call me mother again! I'll never speak one word to her till the day of my death! How dare you.come home interfering? Your place is in the fields!” “My place is beside my daughter, since she is to be put upon in ths manner. And as to your not speaking to her, I guess it won't be a great loss, for when you do speak it is to scold J? and with this shot the farmer wilked out of the house and back to leaving the woman foaming | with rage, which she poured out in tor- | rents upon the defenseless Phyllis, trembling and with who, streaming eyes, dinner. The morning of the picnic rose bright and glorious; and when Phyllis look od forth upon it she almost yesterday forgot the unpleas the anticipated pleasure The broad, surrounded green in that cool ana with dark, neath the grand old sun was just gild the her father’s in the early me pieasant shadows under- hemlocks, The ning, ing the birds among their boughs the woods distance showed All that afternoon poor Phyllis had to suffer and her eyes were red and swollen when her father came in to supper, He stroked ber hair with a loving smile when Mrs, d'revor was out of the room, saying, with tenderness in his voice and eyes: ‘“Has she been tormenting you again, Phy?" But don’t ery, dearie, and spoil your pretty eyes for to-morrow, for you are going to wear your pink dress, which matches the faint roses in these cheeks so well, and go to the picnic as man sat down to his evening meal with a face as tranquil as though nothing had occurred during the day to disturb its serenity. She went about her task of milking with a happy heart, and when, her work fuished, she entered the Kitehen, breakfast was in progress, Her mother went about scowling as usual, but for a wonder she let Phyllis alone. When she had finished her breakfast her father bade her go and get ready with a reassurfng smile, but Mrs. Trevor still maintained a sullen silence. “You had better hurry, mother, and get dressed, too, you and the boys, 1'll have old Timur hitched to the wagon and at the door in half an hour, said her husband, in his usutl friendly tone of voice. “I ain’t goin’!l" snapped Mrs. Trevor, Her husband paused and looked back, with his hand on the latch of the door. “Not going?’ he echoed. *‘Why not, mother?’’ Mrs. Trevor looked up with an angry toss of her head, “If yom are agoin’ to encourage Phyllis to go when I said she should’nt, then I won't!” she sald, emphasizing her words by a decided nod, “Verry well. As you please, Helen, I presume you will not prevent the boys from going?" They can go or not for all I care!” she returned, angry that he did not seem put out at her refusal to go. “Very well. Go and get ready, boys: I will have the wagon at the or um Pack a pretty big Waker fot mother,” and he was off, His wife set about packing lunch for ber children, Directly Phyllis came from her room; and she did make a lovely picture In her rose-pink lawn and ribbons; the color contrasted well with her brown eyes, yellow hair and fair white skin. Even the cold mother felt something like pride in her daughter, when she looked at her, standing there with the sunshine making an aureole about her head: but she would not show it. She smothered down the transient feeling, this unnatural parent, and said, ina cold, cutting voice which froze the happiness in her daughter's heart: “Now let me tell you one thing before you start, Phyl Trevor! Never you speak to me again, after disobeyin’ me; you hear? And I waut you to heed, too!” I do not think the woman knew, or, rather, thought of what she was say- ing, for she spoke in anger. Surely no mother could have so little affection in her heart for the child she bore! Surely she did not think of what she said, or mean it! But the words smote Phyllis like a knife, she turned a white face, with great startled eyes, upon ber, gasped, and then, with a shuddering ery, she rag forward to her mother, who was leaving the room, crying, with clasped hands: “Oh, surely you you say, mother? you wouldn't be so cruel to me? stay at home willingly, if won't be so angry!” Mrs, Trevor turned a livid face her daughter, “I do mean it! 1 almost hate you, you white-fuced, puny nothing! Your father was led by you to go against what I said, and if you had never been born I would have been happy! 1 never cared for you; settin’ yourself up to curry favor with your father, so't he won't hardly notice any of the rest of his children!” At this juncture the gentleman in question suddenly made his appearance, and Mrs, Trevor hastily departel, thinking that perhaps she had gone a little too far, even for the patience of her easily-lad husband, He had heard her cruel words, and he came forward, puiting his arm tenderly around the weeping Phyllis, and murmuring endearing words which made her tears flow only the faster “Father, I have oaly you to love me in the wide world, Mother hates me, She said so, Ob, father, please don't ask me to go on that miserable picnic, take all the pleasure of my she cried, trembli don’t mean what I love you 80; and I will only you upon 5 to it away,” ng, cling. “Darling, it will not do to give way selfishness as your mother has shown, she shall not gq on treating you as she has been dois 8. Dry your eyes Phyl, and go to | I will see that are {reated in a manner befitting my ild when you return And he led her out hastily and placed ' ] to such lease me You ch wagon with the boys, stil coul 1 re. for the words utlered lly sunk deep into Ni God, 1 she moaned, whirling ug her, She HW arcely sirain ner soos, 80 Crue r heart. “Oh, I ’ I never had been as with dry eyes drove old wish $ ine aks i brain, she blind to the beauties of she heard ouly that eruel eyes were nature now; voice saying: “I never cared for you!” All the youth and beauty in her life seemed blotted out, The boys did not notice the sttange white look of their sister’s face. They were clamourously talking of what fan they were to have, When they arrived at the spot which was designated as the “‘picknickin’ grounds’ by the country people, many of the pleasure seekers were already assembled, and kind hands assisted Phyllis to alight, and disposed of her horse and wagon for ber. Every one noticed Sow white and troubled she looked, and how quiet she was, “What ails Phyl Trevor?" the young people whispered to each other, The poor child wandered off from them all, away through the quiet green woods until she came to an old log which lay felled across her path, and here she sat down, resting her aching head against the trunk of a tree, “Oh, can it be true, can it be true, that she wishes I wever had been born? That she does not love me? Mother, mother, you were always stern to me, but I never dreamed this!’ she moan- ed, hiding her face in her hand and sobbing convulsively, The violence of her grief at length exhausted itself, and her bands fell from her tear-stained face, her head drooped-—she was fast asleep. How long she lay there she never knew. When she awoke it was with a violent start of terror. The woods reverberated with peals of thunder, She started up; at that instant a flash of lightening almost blinded her, and was succeeded by another peal of thunder. The rain came down in torrents and Crenched her to the skin, Another flash, another peal, and a great tree, the very one against which she had Been leaning, cracked, groaned, and then, befors the terrified girl could make an éffort Lo escape, it fell forward, Toere she lay iu ull her lasoeeut' me. When, after the storm had itself, some of the pleasure seckers came to search for the missing girl, they almest stumbled across her body, which lay erushed beneath the giant tree, Her sweet face was turned up- ward, and her great dark eyes, now glazed and fixed in death, wora wide open, with a look of despair and horror frozen in them, The men raised the trunk of the tree with logs for levers, and lifted the body from its place among the fallen leaves and brancheg and earried it, with its wet golden hair and waxen face, to a wagon, where the young Trevors waited with awed, frightened faces and they drove gently home with their silent burden, Three days afterward 4 funeral took it's solemn way from Stonybrook farm to the little church which stood in the midst of the weeping-willows. Mr, Trevor came very near being killed by the shock of his favorite child’s death, and his wife—-—-7? For a while she was also Insane with remorse and grief; she found when too late that her child was dear to her; she has never same woman since, and in her bent form and snow-white hair it is hard to recognize the Mrs, Trevor of other days, The country people for niles around know the story and pity the anguished woman, but they know not what a terrible thing is that mother’s remorse, AT EST Cm. The Clothes-pin asa Civitizer. A reporter called recently on a whole. sale dealer in clothes-pins. The store- house where the merchant kept his stock was filled with bales and sacks, reis of thousands of clothes-pins were there. The proprietor patted a huge bale with a gentleness suggestive of appre ciative affection and discoursed after this manner: “Clothes-pins are one of the staple exports of this country. In the spring millions are shipped to Europe, the maj- ority being sent to England and France, A family in England without elothes- pins would be like plum-pudding with- pudding. There are five fac- tories in this country which manu- facture ovr 50,000,000,000 of clothes- pins annually, They are situated in New Haven, Jersey City, Philadelphia, Chicago and Boston. The lumber which is taken from the Adirondack forests, the spruce especially, is nearly all used in making clothes-pins, but they are of inferior quality and sell at wholesale for 25 cents a gross, They are soft and spt to split upon the line, pine, maple and hickory are the best woods for pins as they season easily and the dampness of the washing does not spring them. The greater portion of the wood comes from Maine, and to tell you bow many thouands of feet of the good pine woods of tate find their way ld as- tonish you wood #ix inche out the that St into ciothes-pins wi It takes OnLy es in thickne nearly three hundred pins, The of the dimensions I have given you is divided into 238 pieces which are thrown into an automatic turning machine cap- able of turning out 500 pins every ten minutes, and the square pieces of wood throw into the machine by the bushel, come out of it with the neatly turned head and the smooth siot which fits so snugly over the clothesline. The dom. estic trade in clothes-pins is calculated roughly at 30,500,000,000 yearly. They sell at wholesale for 20 cents a gross for spruce, 204 cents for pine, 211 and 22 cents for maple, and 22 cents for hick- ory. “1t is a singular fact that clothes-pins are seldom used in the extreme South, There the clothing is doubled over the line and allowed to hang until dry, which, owing to the warmth of the climate, isa matterof ashort time We first began exporting clothes-pins to Europe in large quantities in 1848, and as the duty on them in foreign ports 1s only nominal we can sell thema cheaper than they can be made there, The American clothes-pins is a civilizer In no slight degree, for where a pin is needed a washing of clothing is essential; aclean person atler clean clothing is demanded, and if ‘cleanliness is next to godliness,” then the modest clothes. pin is a missionary to be bought by the gross.’ Midnight Cama of Dogs, At midnigh* about tty dogs of all sizes and description met on Warren street, Norwich, Conn, an aristocratic and retired qaarter, and joined in a free fight, The contest is described by persons who were awakened as terrific, The street was blocked with the mass of writhing forms. No order of battle was observed, all pitching in where there was a chance to bite. Up and down the sidewalks and roadbed the battle raged for about an hour. Many ladies who looked from: thelr éhamber windows believed at first that the com- bat was between wolvesand were pros. trated with fright several being still indispose on account of the shock to their nerves. After the battle, when the horde bad withdrawn, many limping from the field, several neighbors ven. tured out of their houses, They found one dog dead on the sidewalk, It was a Imudsome shepherd belonging to B.F, Mead, It was a favorite with the Fides on account of ils beauty aud gol lense, A Winter Reso tl fur Blcuiths ur ess, The rapid pace at which our business rest than in the days of old when busi. ness was couducted more slowly add with greater deliberation. Not only in the exhausting heat of swmmer, but there should be pauses for rest also in the equally trying days of mid- winter, It is most fortemate, there. fore, that for the people of the United in Atlantic Uity a place where not only # season of repose for the weary worker may be found but likewise a sanitarium, generously endowed by nature with balmy breezes, warm suns and a unie form temperature, accompanied by all the comforts, conveniences and luxu- ries of life. Four hours ride over the Pennsylvania railroad from New York, and two hours from Philadelphia will bring the invalid or the visitor for plea- sure to the delightful ¢ity by the sea. Atlantic City is situated on an island bounded un the south and east by the and on the other sides by an arm of the sea, Its main exposure is south- ern, and the welcome rays of the wiz- ter sun bathe it Ina flood of soft and mellow light. The surrounding waters are open during the year, and only in the coldest snaps does ice form on the inlet. The winds as well as the wave { favor this fortunate spot. From the | porth, northwest and southwest the winds travel for miles over and and porous sands on which snow never lies, and become dried and warmed in their passage. The southern and eastern winds come in from the sea laden with the heated vapor of the Gulf Stream to | | tone down the temperature to a delight- | ful degree. We are told by meteorolo- | gists that the Gulf Stream, in conse- | quence of its proximity to the coast, at- fects the temperature more powerfully here than at any other part of the At- lantic coast. Just opposite Atlantic City the stream sweeps in landward to within forty-five miles of the shore, and ihe heated waters of the Tropics serve a8 a natural radiator, tempering the harshness of this northern latitude, With all these advantages of site it is pot surprising that the thermometer conducts itself with charming propriety Atlantic City. As winters go it rare. y drops below thirty-two degrees, and trustworthy observations show that a fair average for its noon-day reading in nid-winter is fogty-five or fifty degrees, Atlantic City is a city not only in tame but in fact having a resident pop- \ tlation of seven thousand people. It Blad out in straight, wide avenues bordered with trees and adorned with landsome hotels and artistic villas, | Zlectric lights, a street railway, anda iniformed police attest its municipal im- sortance, There are fine drives along {he avenues or on the beach, and all the facilities are at call, Of hotels there is an unlimited sup- | ply. There are rich apartments for the | wealthy, comfortable quarters for the bdepentent, humble lodgings for the poor. Many of the first-class hotels remaig open throughout the year. With this view they are adapted to use ts winter homes, and are as comfortable bh mid-winter as they are agreeable in fie heat of the dog-days. They are heat- al by steam and made cosily attractive ly open grates. Several of them, have een thoroughly refitted since the dose of the summer season. Many of tiem have bath-houses where one can idulge the luxury of a salt-water bath; end well-arranged sun-pariors, where fivalids or others may bask in the bright sunlight without encountering the out- ¢r air, These parlors are glass-inclosed jortices, affording excellent indoor jromenades, The health record of Atlantic City is tnsurpassed, No epidimic has ever mged there. The drainage is good, the greets are well cleaned and the drink. fg water is brought fresh and pure from the mainland. Thousands of patients have been sent here by their ghysicians and returned well and hear. w. ‘Why should we zo to Europe in search o health and at great expense when we ave here, at our own doors, all the ap- pliances for comfort, invigorating breez- e, warm suns, entertainments and sorts of all kinds, all of these at prices vithin the reach of all? A Nignt in a Montana Dance House, Let us enter one of those establish- nents, where men stake their souls as vell as their money in the exciting fresh from the great up” of eattle, A number of them are sanding just loside the door, plo- - costumed, wide bolls strapped about their walsts, with the usual brace of navy revolvers, long hunting knife aud high boots with sharp spurs, A friendly little man next to as bends over and whispers softly, “Fhar'll be fun ter-night, The cow-boys ase in for a spree.” Muzic strikes up within, Following the crowd, we find ourselves in a long, low room, at the further end of which three musicians sit upon a small plat- form, extracting wild, rapid strains of rather questionable music from a ban- jo and two violins, Ranged along ous side of the room are the gambling tables where faro, keno, poker and other games are being played. Oppo- site is the bar, well-stocked with all sorts of poisonous decoctions in fancy bottles, while the center of the apart. ment Is cleared for to begin. The wild musicians being ended, one of the gambling which gilts the long-haired man, wearing a wide brero, with his jeweled hands ively near a large ivory-handled revol- ver, A row of silver coind and several little Leaps of gold, extended the entize length of the table, and watchful eye Is constantly fixed upon them, although he deales out fasgo checks with the rapidity of lightening, drawing in the bank’s gains with the same quickness and nonchalance, At these tables the besetting sin of gambling is revealed in ils worst as- pect. Thousands of dollars often change hands in a single night, and many deluded men, elated by a single “stroke of luck,” as they term is, fly to the gambling table, and with strain- ing eyes and desperate mind see their earnings raked in by the watehful dealer, who is always cautious, stern and indexible. The lives of scores of young men bave been wrecked here, and a single glance at the haggard players should prove a lasting warning to all who are drawn into similar danger. Froun this scene we tum our at- tention to the dancers, The stentorian voice of the banjoist is heard. *‘Gents, select your pardners.’’ The gents, however, denly bashful at this, the corner of the room, quickly followed and main force to form quadrille the floor, the musicians strike into “Captain Jinks,” with hideous wvaria- tions, and the dancing begins, But the furious frolic, which together indescribable, soon ends, the music ceases suddenly, stentorian voice roars out “Gents, escort yer pardners bar.” So securely held that escape, the “gents” are the bar, where they are a dollar a couple for any ting decoctions they may choose ordet. This performance is repeated over and over again all night in these places and generally the rooms remain crowded. Often quarrels occur among the cow boys, and no man’s life is really safe within the precincts of these dens. — — A ——— The Formal Call. Whatever may betide, men have good cause to rejoice that they bear no part in that crowning bore of all bores known as the “formal call.” That isa femi- nine institution. It is an invention of the sex, #hd the sex groans under its yoke. Man smokes his Durham in beatiic peace, whilst the wife and daughters pay tribute to the formal call. He hears the soto voce prayer that parties will be out and that the matter can be dispatched with a card. He quietly notes the sigh of relief when the exhausted women retuin after hours of social distress, He observes the tax of dress incident to the affair, the bad temper it invokes and the hypocrisy and total absence of any equivalent in the way of pleasure for all this slavish ad- herence to custom, and them dimly re- alizesthe miraculous felicity of his own escape from such thraldom, and it may be takes comfort in the thought that the whole business falls totally on those who have made him pay the piper for countless other freaks and whims of fashion and caprice, The elasticity of conscience with which the gentile crea- tures endeavor to mitigate the infliction of the formal call by convenient fibs, fornishes the masculine monster some amusing food forstudy, and it may be doubted whether he would budge an inch toabolish the formal call. Itisdia- mond cut diamond; women annoying women. Insuch a transaction the wise seu holds aloof and lets the dainty bel- heer ts masquerading as friends man. age Lae kollow and artificial show as suits themselves. It is not often that he has an opportunfty of keeping out of a game in which women array their wits against the common tyrant, man. He is at liverty to be judiciously silent and hear the fair prattiers discuss each other ina style utterly unlike the fancy pictures of novelists and poets, and if he doesn't get some wholesome enlighte nent het is hopelessly stupid. The formal call is an eye-opener. In its inception, pro- gress and sequel it {luminates the dun brain of man as to the infinite variety, versatility and grim _clasticity of that delightful compound of pulls, powder the dancing soon of the we draw near fables, behind dark-faced, preiude dealer, a BONG ~ SUZ Les the dealer's become sud- and slide off to But they are persuaded by ets on is al- for and the again: to the they cannot harried upto ob to pay SOA 0 iged of the naus fatal
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers